


The Way We Were

by RhetoricFemme



Series: Imitation of Life [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Coming Out, Day Three: Patience; Salad Days, M/M, MBAW, Marco Bodt Appreciation Week, Someone get this morsel a blanket and some cocoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhetoricFemme/pseuds/RhetoricFemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Wolfe once said, "You can't go home again."  Tell this to Marco Bodt, and you'll hear another voice telling you to take that sentiment and shove it up your ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way We Were

**Author's Note:**

> This fic belongs to the same series as [Save Tonight](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/marcobodtappreciationweek/works/5938996), and both are written as Marco's first-person POV. _The Way We Were_ is brand new, but written for an old story that I'm trying to get a feel for, and get off the ground. Any input--comments or constructive criticism alike--are very welcome and much loved!

Thick.

That’s what I remember about the air while visiting my cousin that day in Jinae. Thick and oppressive, but better than hacking it out with some card game or other distraction inside.

Winters were harsh in Jinae, so we might as well enjoy the summer while it lasted, right?

There’d been six of us then. Ymir and her little posse that included Reiner and Bertholt, two boys she stayed close to well after high school. As for me, I’d brought along Connie and Jean for the weekend. Connie was literally the boy next door, and had been there right from the start. Like, my mother is one of probably three living people in this world who actually refers to him as Conrad.

Bringing Connie to Ymir’s was nothing new, and he just went ahead and made himself right at home. Jean, on the other hand, was more or less still the new kid. The Kirschsteins had moved to Trost early the previous school year, and at the very least Jean and I had figured out early on that we were content to be classroom friends.

Pairing up for projects and hanging at recess, however, is a far cry from sharing long, lazy afternoons in summer. That’s when you find out if your friendship is based off an actual wavelength or chemistry, or if it’s purely circumstantial. I doubt I’d of been able to articulate it back then, but I know it would have crushed me to have ever found out that Jean’s connection with me was just a matter of convenience.

To be honest, I’d been thrilled when he agreed to spend the weekend before starting middle school hanging out in the sticks of Jinae. Even back then, Jean was usually outspoken, and a little bristly. If you let him, he’d go off on a tangent about the latest military documentary he’d seen, and always had a couple of little green army men in one of his pants pockets.

A weekend in the country didn’t exactly seem like his thing.

But then, Jean has always been able to surprise me.

The humidity was intense that afternoon, to the point that the sun was practically taunting us. With the trees giving decent shade, though, there didn’t seem a good enough reason to go back inside.

Instead we opted for simple pleasures; climbing, chasing, and the sort of games that revolved around scandalous admissions that at that age, just weren’t there.

Eventually, someone—probably Ymir—decided it would be fun to spin ourselves stupid, under the guise that going fast enough might just drum up a little bit of a breeze. Climbing to our feet, the others were all smiling, but all I had going for me was reluctance and questions. That’s what you came to expect when playing with Ymir and her friends, though. I knew, crossing my arms at the elbows and reaching out for Reiner’s hands, that nothing terribly bad was going to happen.

All of a sudden, I hear Ymir’s voice break through everyone else’s as she pipes up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Oh, no. I'm about to be that guy. The one who gets counted out because he doesn't want to deal with his discomfort.

“No, I want to!”

I kept my eyes on the ground, just in case the older kids might realize I was afraid of falling. Just in case Jean might be able to tell I was kind of scared.

“Marco,” Ymir starts in, and I can tell she’s about to call the whole thing off, when Jean decided to pipe up.

“This game is dumb.” Everyone’s attention is on Jean now, who’s just let go of Bertholt’s hands before wiping them off on his shorts.

“Lame.” Ymir gives him the stink-eye, and it’s only clear to me as an adult that both of them were in their own ways looking to help me save face, but clearly weren’t going to budge for each other. “You said you’d play.”

“I changed my mind.” He decided, voice loud with that typical Jean bravado. “Let me be Marco’s partner, then maybe I’ll play.”

Reiner just shrugged, grabbing up Bertholt’s hands while Jean crossed his arms to meet mine. It was the first of many times Jean would hold out his hand to me.

Jean smiled, his sunburnt little face quietly asking if I was ready. With Jean’s hands gripping mine, the game was no longer all that daunting, and had turned into something simple, but adventurous. My answer was to hold on tighter, testing my weight as we each leaned back at the same time.

Within seconds, the entire world was spinning, with Jean at the center.

//

It’s in the quiet humidity of a still unfamiliar University of Sina dorm room that I start to remember all of this. Laundry baskets full of clothes, books, and unassembled desktops sit piled up in the center of the room. At least for the moment, I’ve got zero motivation to move any of it, and no one to talk to since Jean’s gone out in search of food.

I’m glad for the quiet, though. It’s the first chance I’ve had in a while to sift through everything running through my mind. There’s too much in there, and every last bit of it is a double-edged sword.

There’s being away from home for the first time, and the long-held excitement of being out on my own while running off the schedule I’ve established for myself, at my first choice of schools. That part is pretty awesome.

But then, there’s the question about where I’ll be staying during winter break. The as-of-yet unreturned phone calls that essentially mean that maybe I should talk to some relatives about living on their couch until the new semester starts.

For every source of elation, there seems to be a newfound sense of pain. I’d be lying to say it wasn’t slightly anticipated, which only serves to remind myself that I was ready for this. Am ready for it.

There’s also comfort in knowing that I’m not entirely alone.

Jean is here. So are his parents, who regularly tell me in no uncertain terms that as long as they are around, I’ll always have a place to call home.

Without a doubt, it’s a gesture I take to heart, and I know it to be entirely true. Years have gone by since I've ever had to knock at the Kirschstein’s front door, but it wasn’t until things got difficult over the summer that they stepped up and handed me a key of my own.

Despite it all, some parts of their hospitality—their bone-deep familiarity—are not the same. I’ve had the pleasure of growing up an honorary member of Jean’s family, but it was never the place I referred to as home.

It wasn’t until recently I learned that at some point, _home_ becomes a subjective term.

And now, as this humidity rolls in waves through the dorm’s open window, I’m taken back to the simple pleasures from that weekend so many years ago. They’re happy memories; ones I’m holding onto with a white-knuckled grip, because I can’t imagine feeling that particular brand of happiness again until the day I see it worn across my own child’s face.

And that’s okay. The good parts aren’t the ones that happen overnight.

It takes time to build a family.


End file.
